Untitled Misery
by idiotic-beans
Summary: He cannot smile without reason. He cannot laugh just for the heck of it. He cannot be a child without a motive, without a cause. There has to be a reason. Through that mask that he cautiously wears, a man, distant from it all, sees through it...
1. Chapter 1

**Untitled Misery**

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Warnings: Implication of rape, murder, child abuse, etc… Don't read if you know you can't take it.

But like I said, it's implied.

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Summary: He cannot smile without reason. He cannot laugh just for the heck of it. He cannot be a child without a motive, without a cause. There has to be a reason. Through that mask that he cautiously wears, a man, distant from it all, sees through it—everything, the raw emotions, the motives, the reason. In this song, he finds out the bitterness kept in those eyes, the pain that he endured, and of course, what he can do in the midst of it all.

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Prologue: The Art of Escape

I sat in my small bedroom, reading a book. No, it was boot a fairy-tale book; it was not a book about fantasy, and those other things—

I was reading a History book.

Now, just in case you're wondering why a 12-year-old boy like me would read about complex Japanese history, ask the school. Ask my classmates. Ask anyone except my parents.

Of course, you must already know the reason. This is what my parents expect of me. They expect their son to be the best.

I was at the top of my class. The teachers admire me, the students hate me, and my parents—well, let's just say that my parents are less than proud-and-happy.

Well, about them. They want me, their son, to be perfect. They want me to excel in academics. They want me to be some doll that can be manipulated and set to satisfy them. They want me to be just like them when I grow up—the rich, 'happy', "social", smart, know-it-alls that we all know they are. And what's worse, no matter how much I know about everything, they want me to be apathetic about it. I wouldn't call that something that I would want to be.

When I was somewhere around four, I remember singing in front of the television, and soon enough, my mother shut it off, and yeah… the bruise is still in my left cheek. I don't know what is up with them. They don't want me to excel in the arts. They don't want me to sing. They want me to be smart. They don't want application.

Every night, when I would get a test paper with a 98-and-below written on it, my parents would scream at me. They would slap me, they would… I don't know. I would get punished. Yeah. There.

And so I try my best. I don't want to go through the suffering I do every time I disappoint them. And so I study. I aim at marks of 100. I try to win every contest I join. I try to be perfect, like what they want me to be.

When you ask someone who knew my 'academic' childhood about my academics (or rather, if I had any education at all), they'll laugh at you for telling my stupidity on them.

They'd just exclaim, "Sakuma? Hell? Are you sure? He's the top of my class! Kinda wondered if his brain cracked, though,"

Every friend that I made, my parents would reject. I wouldn't dare question why, though. That would be my suicide. Of course, that meant that I had very little friends. Then again, even that handful of friends would befriend me for the sake of using me. Around this time, I got used to it.

Love was never an option for me. I was never loved; therefore, I do not know how to love. Maybe the closest thing to 'love' that I ever experienced was with him. Yes. Him.

I still remember him vividly: he was Caucasian, platinum-blonde, grey eyes. I remember his voice, how he would tutor me, his teaching style.

You guessed it: I had a major childhood crush on my tutor. He was actually my Music teacher at school, except that he insisted to tutor me since he thought that I had 'potential'. My parents were reluctant (as a matter of fact, it was a straight-no at first), but then again, since the A- on my card looked bad, they let me take it.

He (my Music teacher) was great with the piano. He would sing about just anything. He taught me how to listen to true music, how to sing, how to play, how to do all those things that he does. Somehow, this—music—is my escape. I could never have been happier about it. I used it to escape from my parents whenever I get punished. I used it during an exam. I used it whenever I can.

Until, of course, _that_ happened.

I still have some traces of it in my memory, much as I wanted to forget about it. It was another Saturday afternoon. He was supposed to come.

I sat there patiently, waiting for him. Sure, what did a few 10 minutes matter?

He came in, looking like he always did. He apologized, and we sat for our lessons. Around 15 minutes has passed when there was a knock on the door. My sensei answered the door, but then he was knocked out by the force that the door hit on his head. I heard a gunshot.

I ran to the door to see who was there. To my surprise, two more men pinned me to the wall. What the hell was happening?

I heard some ripping noises. Then I saw the man. I couldn't remember his features, though; like I said, I chose to forget.

And so he ripped my shirt. He traced his finger on my bare chest. He mumbled a few words, and I was set free. I heard someone scream 'run', and a gunshot followed that.

Then silence. That silence didn't last long, though; the man stripped me of all my clothing, and he pushed himself to me. He did all sorts of things to me, things that I do not want to remember, that I do not wish to remember.

Soon after that, I was at my room. My parents were there with a stern face. I still remember mother's screams, father's slaps, their words.

"YOU IDIOT OF A SLUT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"

_What the hell? But didn't you see that I was—_

And yet, they didn't. So I can prove nothing. Now they think that I'm a slut.

"HOW DARE YOU LET SOMEONE—IN MY HOUSE, AT THAT—ENTER? WHAT AUTHORITY DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT?"

Another slap.

I just wanted to escape in all this. I just wanted to listen to the music of this all. No matter how much I tried, all there was is pure silence.

It was later that day that I found out that my Music teacher was killed. All assumed that it was me. All I can do was run away, for now; run away and escape.

Not now. No. Not yet. I have to know what I was doing first.

And so I stay here in this house, reading a History book, trying to figure out how I can escape and not end up dead. No, I can't die. Not yet. Everyone needed to know the truth. I need to find those people. I need to do so many things…

As of now, this—music—is my only escape.

My teacher once told me that there is no such thing as silence in the world. Everything makes a sound. If not, everything would be dead.

So for now, I try to find light in this much darkness, and soon enough, I will discover the music in the silence.

I am Ryuichi Sakuma. If I lived up until now as Ryuichi Sakuma, then I will make it. I have to live. I have to learn much more than what I know.

I have to… I know that I just have to. For me. For my parents. For my sensei...

...For music.

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A/N: I know… I'm torturing him too much. I don't know if I'll continue on this, but that is my initial plan. If not, this can be a standalone. I know that I'm a really sucky writer. I know that this isn't very much, and that it's not as well-written as the other fiction out here… and that is why I need your comments, suggestions, etc! I just want to know what I can do! So thanks. Flaming is accepted. Thanks.

By the way, my condition is that please don't flame me. Flame the story, because that's more reasonable, and that's less childish.

And no, I don't like hurting Ryu-chan! WHY SHOULD I? He's my fave character. This suddenly just came up. In my head. So there.

Riko-chan


	2. Chapter 2 :: Kumagoro

A/N: Heya, it's me. So yeah. Just so you know, this chapter will end our dear beginning. The next chapters will be the start of the story. So yep. And if what's going on is not clear just yet, it will be. You just have to take a mental note of some events here (not all), and you'll understand what's going on much, much later. Bear with me here.

Oh, by the way, the other characters for this story will be introduced later. As for pairings… I have distinct ones in my head already, though I won't be telling any of you just yet, unless you're polite enough to ask, and I shall mail it to thee .

Disclaimer: As you all know, I do not own this. Otherwise, I will not be the rookie fanfiction author that you all know that I am. We all know that Maki Murakami will not write useless crap like so. So here you go

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Chapter 2: Kumagoro

I hold a stuffed bunny in my hands as I hum my song. I smile at passers-by. They will never know that I was Ryuichi Sakuma, the smarty at elementary school. If ever I will be known publicly, I will be known as Ryuichi Sakuma, the vocalist of the little band downtown Tokyo known as Nittle Grasper.

Yep. We started a business. Who's we, you ask? That's Tohma and I. Tohma is my best friend, even then. He was there when I needed him because he was also in the same situation as I am—except he made some money and ran away from his parents before I did. Go figure.

A few people would call me 'Sakuma-san' at times. Sakuma-san, maybe because I am not close to them just yet. But then I shudder, I shake, I fear at the very mention of the name. Only my parents were called 'Sakuma-san'. I do not want to remember that past which I had run away from.

And so I tell them to call me Ryu-chan. Everyone can call me Ryu-chan. I can, Tohma can, you can, Kumagoro can.

Kuma-chan. After all these years, I still kept him with me. I kept it with me ever since I was four. No. Not it. He. Kumagoro lives. He is alive. He experienced what I had to go through. He told me comforting words when I was down. Kumagoro is the only one who really knows the truth about me. He is the only one who knows about my past.

My brother gave him to me.

I still remember very well, on Christmas day of very long ago. I was four back then, and my brother was home from his school. He was not in University just yet, but then again, he studied far away because the nearby school was 'not good enough' (which is plainly one of the reasons why I am being sent here right now—the education system and pretty much everything else was fixed there because of my parents' influence).

I was singing Christmas carols with him. He praised my voice—a lot, then we would continue singing. Unfortunately, I sang too loud. My mother shouted at my brother for the nth time. I was punished later.

I cried my hardest in the room. I wasn't crying because of the pain. No. I was crying because I got my brother into trouble.

He then entered the room, and gave me a hug, plastered a smile on his face.

"Smile, Ryu-chan! It will be all over soon. See? Kumagoro says so. It wants to play with you!"

Kumagoro. I thought at that time that he was nothing more than a stuffed animal.

"See? Kumagoro wants to play with YOU!" he poked at me once.

I was getting quite amused by what my brother is showing me. By then I had not been crying, but then I want to 'hurt' my brother a little bit.

"Kumagoro is a stuffed animal. It isn't alive, nor does it have a gender, nor does it want to play with me." I flatly told him (though I hear my own voice crack quite a bit).

He just laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"He's alive!" he told me, "In fact, you should say so more than I would,"

I just stayed up all Christmas night, listening to stories of my brother and Kumagoro. Apparently, that was his Christmas gift to me. Someone else had given Kuma-chan to my brother, though. I found out soon enough.

Kuma-chan was Ryo (my brother)'s birthday gift from someone named Taikikana Genji. According to my brother, he and Kana-san were best friends. They seemed inseparable from all those stories that he told me. I listened to every single one of his stories; it made me feel better. Somehow, this is my other escape.

That is, of course, to find out years later that my brother gave me his most prized possession up to me because he knew his fate.

He disappeared, just like that. He took up college. He took up Music. He ran away from me.

No one knows what happens to a Sakuma who takes up music.

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"Ryu-chan, let's go… Shall we?" Tohma said.

I walked alongside him, as I held my past in my hands. Much as I try to run away from it, I can't. So all I can do now is to forget about it and move on.

I'll just grab hold of Kumagoro… I'll just grab on to my brother, and somehow… I'll get there. I know that sometime in the future, life will be much, much better—for both of us.

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A/N (2): Okay, didn't that just suck? This story's getting a bit pointless in my eyes, since I sometimes get too busy and forget about this. But I wanna be able to finish something, no matter how lazy I am to finish, no matter how many reviews I get. So this serves me a favor. But I want to know where I can improve, so this won't end up as crappy as it already is. So help this rookie/noob author. And be completely honest. Flames against the story: accepted. Flames against me: please. Get straight to the point. You're reading the story, not me. . thankers. 


	3. Chapter 3 :: Dark

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation in any way, because if I did, Ryuichi would be more a main character. :D

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_**Funeral.**_

That word stuck on to me the entire trip. Tohma just got married months ago, and now his mother-in-law dies. It's not that I'm blaming him for anything, but why must I go?

Emotional support, maybe. As if I can provide any. He was supposedly more 'emotionally-stable' than I will ever be. I start to wonder.

When we got to the place, the atmosphere was the least bit light. There were tears everywhere. The grieving, the sorrow, the anger… In one word, sadness. Some cried a whole lot, and some were forcing themselves not to cry, yet the tears won't stop flowing.

When I got to the relatives of the dead, I then saw Tohma's wife, Mika, and two other people beside her. Those two people, Eiri Yuki-san and someone else I did not know, looked rather stiff, but they did not express it through tears. Somehow, I know there was still grief there. They would cry if they wanted to, except that no tears would come out.

_**Black.**_

It was everywhere. It made everything seem so dull. It seems like an empty entity, the color black. It wasn't shiny, nor did it seem attractive. And yet it was everywhere. It was even on me, yet I did not like to be in black.

I just sat there at the sidelines. I was not really close to the deceased; I was only asked to go here and pay my condolences. Everyone had a sad look on their face. Even Eiri Yuki-san, who is normally apathetic to everything, wore a sad expression on his face. That meant something, right?

I sit here, not knowing about the dead. The one beside me seemed to be close to the person who has just died. He seemed to keep a stern expression… Wait, wasn't he the brother of Mika-san?

He looked like Yuki-san, but then he didn't look as _scary_ as he does. Black didn't look quite so bad on him, too. In fact, it matched his hair, it matched his eyes, it contrasted him.

_**Tears.**_

And everyone I knew started crying. If I knew any better, I was the only one left without the clue of tears on my eyes. Well, besides Kumagoro. But that's beside the point. Only Kumagoro and I were not crying.

_I do not know what it feels like to lose my mother, but I knew how it feels like losing someone close to you._

I wanted to tell that to the child beside me. He seemed like he was around 12 years old, but surely, he is much older. He looks older, not in the offensive kind of way. He looks… Quite attractive. I am becoming a pedophile. Someone help me.

He started crying the moment I hugged him. Everyone else hugs someone else around here; why can't I?

Sometimes, I just wish I know how it feels like losing a mother, a loving mother. I would wish that I know how it feels like, so that I can relate to those around me. And so I told him.

"I do not know what it feels like to lose my mother, but I know how it feels like losing someone close to you. After that, it will be okay... I promise. Even Kumagoro says so!" I said, lending Kumagoro to him and secretly hoping that I would lighten his mood. He took Kuma-chan in his arms and hugged him. He cried more after that. I felt like crying too; I want to cry for the people here.

**_Music_.**

And I hear a sad song. It was not being hummed. It was not being whispered. It was being _sung_. The song filled the air around me, it was speaking to me. I needed to grieve, too, it said.

_The song needs to be put into words_.

And so I sing for him. Soon enough, my voice was powerful enough to sing for all of them. I do not know why I am singing. I am not singing for the deceased, I am singing for the man beside me. I am singing because I remember a distant past which I had promised myself to run away from. I promised myself that I would not cry. I promised.

And yet here I am, comforting someone who lost a precious thing. Here I am, singing for him, or rather, for _him_. Here I am, grieving, crying.

I left Kumagoro with him, as I thought that he needed it more than I ever would. I know that it would comfort him. I would just ask him much, much later to get Kumagoro back.

Later on, I received an SMS message from someone from the past. He (or she) probably did not delete my phone number. It was most probably left there. Probably one of my old house-helps.

_We are inviting you to Ryo Sakuma's 2nd death anniversary which is on _(insert date here). _It will be on _(insert place here), _at_ (insert time here). _Thank you very much. Michi Sakura._

I cried more this day than I should have. I do not know whether to go or not. I just gave Kumagoro to someone who needed it, and yet here I am, crying because the original owner of that Kumagoro is dead. What more, my mother was the one who messaged me. She still has my number. I fear once more at what will happen, whether I will go or not, my family's reaction at me.

The one to whom I have given the Kumagoro tapped me gently at the back.

"Uh… Mister? I have the feeling that you would need this more than I do…" he said, giving Kumagoro back to me. He seemed well enough, he even smiled at me.

_That smile is worth more than all the money in the world. You should smile more, Ryu-chan!_

I could say the same to this boy. His smile was beautiful. It seems to suck me in and—

No. I can't. Maybe knowing his name might do me some good—it might relieve me in a way.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Tatsuha," he replied quietly. Tatsuha… That seems like a nice name.

"And I, Ryuichi. Call me Ryu-chan, okay?"

And so I left that day feeling heavy. So much has happened. And to think that I was supposed to be emotional support.

Kumagoro was with me yet again. I have taken him, because Tatsuha insisted. Somehow, the day seems a little bit easier. As I completely try to detach myself from the past, I move on forward. Then I realize that I have made my first friend ever since I ran away.

I try to rise again.

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A/N: okay… I really don't know what to write from here on forward, but don't jump into any conclusions. I'll give you a little hint, though: the pairings are jumbled as the story progresses, but then I left little clues there to make sure that the pairings will be revealed to you soon :D This is a weird start, I know, but try to bear with me because I am trying to mold the story and make it seem like it has any sense at all. But yeah. 

Did it suck? Was it okay? Did I pass? Please review! Thanks… Though I am not forcing you to review. Flames to the author shall be incinerated.


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